Vocare Prabia Short Stories
by Amber Evans Potter
Summary: When Harry is pulled into another universe, all kinds of chaos follows in his wake. But what about the people he left behind? What did they do without the Boy-Who-Lived?
1. Ron Finds Out

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way.

Author's Note: since I will be updating Vocare Prabia every Friday, every once in a while I'll be writing some short blurbs that will not appear in the story itself. Instead, think of these as spin-offs of the Vocare Prabia story line – the "what wasn't mentioned" part of the story. Updates may be reported in my livejournal so look for them!

Title: Ron Finds Out

Double Potions was a real killer. Ron Weasley was currently recuperating from his eternity with Snape by reading one of the Quiditch magazines one of the younger Gryffindors had left in the common room. With his long legs extended over the armchair closest to the fireplace and his head tilted at just the right angle to rest against the back of the chair, Ron thought he deserved this little piece of heaven. After the hell he'd gone through.

Admittedly, Harry'd had a much rougher experience with Snape. The old bastard couldn't help but rub it all in – Sirius, all the recent deaths of Muggles with an express calling card by The Dark Lord, everything. Not to mention the hasty news Remus had sent them along that he would have to go into hiding soon because some of the Dark Lord's assassins were closing in on his location outside of Hogwarts. Harry took it all to heart, as if it was his fault.

Ron paused, his eyes not seeing the moving photograph of the new commissioners in charge of the next World Cup (the old ones had been overcharging for certain seats and for the concession foods by using illegal potions to make Quiditch-waters "magically" thirstier). Instead of the article, Ron thought back to the conversation he'd had with Harry. Hermione'd nearly driven him mad by worrying all the time, insisting that he needed to relax. Ron felt the same way Hermione did and he knew very well that his best mate was going through a rough time, but he saw the frustration in Harry's eyes. He saw it and ignored it, pushing the issue.

That was why he was in the common room alone instead of with Harry right next to him, either studying or talking about Quiditch (instead of Ron just reading about it). The difference felt painful but Ron mentally argued that it was good for Harry to stew a little. At least this way, he had a target for all of his pent-up aggression and sadness. He always internalized that anger and Ron knew that wasn't good (how many times had he spoken in anger only to regret his words?) so sometimes, he and Hermione pushed Harry. Most of the time the act was unconscious, but Ron was thinking about it then.

The past few months had been intensely difficult. He and Hermione had banded together somewhat against Harry. Hermione tended to take her mothering overboard and Ron couldn't help the infectious need to check up on his best mate. Contrary to what Harry thought, he wasn't alone. Both Ron and Hermione felt intensely responsible for Sirius's death just as much as their friend. Hermione knew what it had meant to Harry, to have Sirius around. Without him, Harry seemed almost to have become fragile, like a piece of glass teetering on the edge of a ravine. Ron couldn't see the bottom of the ravine, but he knew what would happen when Harry fell off.

Ron shuddered, thinking of the hateful look Harry had taken to wearing. He'd become confused recently, torn between avoiding his friends and staying as close to them as possible. Hermione only pushed the issue by continuously hammering Harry about his reckless behavior and insisting that Ron go with him everywhere, even to the bathroom! Through it all, Harry endured with anger in his eyes and betrayal in his thoughts. Ron hated it more than spiders.

'I hate when he's mad at me,' Ron reflected. 'But it's good for him to be a little mad. He's been so depressed lately. Mad is better than anything else right now. How would I feel in his situation?' Ron could only imagine, and he tried to, but he knew very well that he couldn't possibly understand. What Harry was going through was something that he, as the sibling of five brothers and one sister, with both of his parents alive and even some extended family (none of who were evil Muggles who locked anyone in cupboards) in his life, could understand.

The tension was finally getting to him. He thought of Harry, upstairs moping, probably looking through his old photo album, feeling guilty and miserable. Ron then thought of what he'd want someone to do, if he was feeling guilty and miserable. What was it Hermione had taken to saying? Misery loves company?

With new resolve, Ron tossed the Quiditch magazine off to the side and slide to his feet, heading towards the staircase to the sixth year boys' dormitory. He would talk to Harry about all of this. He'd make his friend understand and he'd… well, he'd apologize for being a prat. The thought of apologizing usually made Ron squirm but it had been a rough few months. He couldn't take the tension for much longer.

He threw open the door and went inside. "Harry?" he looked around, surprised that there didn't seem to be anyone in the room. "Hey Harry… where are you?" Ron looked around, peering over Harry's bed and behind the drapes. No sign of his friend. Scowling, Ron went to the foot of Harry's bed and checked inside his trunk. The Invisibility Cloak was there… so where was Harry? Where could he have gone?

A sense of dread picked up in Ron's chest. He tried to reason it away but the feeling would not go away. Much as he tried to control his suddenly pounding heart, his rising panic, he just couldn't control himself. He knew, he just KNEW in his bones, that Harry was gone.


	2. What Happened to Harry?

Author's Note: As a heads up, my book is nearly complete (it is currently at the printers, essentially the second to last step before it will be sent to Amazon). When it is completed, I will make sure to send a message so that everyone has the link to the book and for those who are interested in getting my book, it will be made available to you. This includes anyone outside of the U.S. for my international fans!

Title: What Happened to Harry?

The lights flickered overhead and went out, plunging the normally quiet home into darkness. Vernon Dursley glared ominously up at the ceiling, grinding his teeth. Petunia Dursley tsked when the television fizzled out at just the perfect moment during one of the most entertaining soap opera she'd seen in days. She glanced worriedly at Vernon, remembering how difficult the past few days had been. There was the recent merger scare at the drilling company and that unfortunate incident with the car… Dudley hadn't meant to drive it into that old lady's tree, she shouldn't have come screaming out of her house. But anyway, she knew very well how much the tube helped soothe her husband's woes in the only way it could.

Dudley Dursley was perhaps the only one of his small family who understood what was happening around him. He understood very well when normal accidents happened and when it was actually a magical danger in the making. He sensed rather than saw the coming problems for his family and so, when there was a loud knock at the door, he ran for the stairs instead of the door. He went up to his room, slammed the door, and hid under his blankets with his hands over his bottom.

Vernon and Petunia did not understand their son's behavior, as they had not developed their son's internal magic detector, and so they did not panic when they heard the knock. In fact, Dursley thought that the knock must have belonged to the power people come to apologize profusely that they'd made a large but easily fixable blunder with their electricity. Petunia thought that it would be one of the neighbors from across the street come to tell them they'd accidentally overloaded the power grid because their horrible son, with his electric guitar, had been playing his ungodly music too loudly for the old system to take it. Petunia and Vernon, thus, were ready for apologies from both of their imaginary door-knockers.

When Vernon flung open the door, a reprimand ready on the tip of his tongue and wrath in his eyes, froze when he realized who the person at the door was. Petunia had already created a severe but helpful speech for her neighbor, including some advice she herself had used to raise Dudley into the perfect gentlemen he'd grown into, but she never got a chance to say it. She didn't even remember it. The man at the door filled her with so much fear that she thought to scream. She thought to scream for that same neighbor she'd been picturing and, for that moment, she didn't think about the scandal.

"We need to talk," the man said gruffly, wrestling his way into the house. Vernon scuttled back quickly, knocking Petunia to the wall. The strange man shook himself like a dog and messed up his already crazy-looking hair. A strange, bizarre-looking eyeball rolled around in the man's head, making Petunia squeak in terror. Vernon, recognizing the danger, clamped a hand over his wife's mouth and held his breath. No one outside seemed to hear her so, with a growing sense of indigent anger mixed with a healthy amount of terror, Vernon toed the door closed and helped his wife to a chair in the living room. The unwanted guest had already gone to that room, wrenching the curtains closed immediately.

Vernon was both relieved and appalled that the strange man presumed to treat this as his how, although it was good to know the neighbors would not see anything that happened inside the house. This same thought made Petunia more breathless, as she thought of being alone with the strange man as more of a death sentence than a relief in privacy. The man paced the room when he'd finished with the curtains, looking both angry and suspicious.

"You have a son, don't you?" the man suddenly barked. Vernon stiffened, his face taking on the appearance of a freshly squeezed grapefruit. The man stomped around the room, looking into the kitchen and under the table in the dinning room. When he started up the stairs, Dudley appeared at the top with his blankets still wrapped tightly around him. With a fearful look at the strange man glowering up at him, Dudley scuttled down the stairs and plopped down beside his mother. The man stomped back into the room, eyeing each Dursley carefully.

"Who the hell are you?" Vernon demanded in a soft voice. He felt very much that he was choking on the words.

"My name's Mad-Eye Moody," the man said, his magical eye roving around the room wildly. Dudley just stared at him, entranced by the roving eye. Petunia stared at the man like a trapped bird, twisting her head every time he threatened to move out of her line of vision. "Where's Potter?"

"Potter?" Vernon echoed, his face guarded. "We don't know!"

"He's at his school, isn't he? Did you lose him? That certainly isn't our problem! We don't have anything to do with him during the school year!" Petunia said quickly, her eyes flashing with anger when she noticed the trail of mud the terrifying man left in his wake across her perfectly pristine carpeted floor.

"We know where he is supposed to be. But I want to know if he is here," Moody said.

"He's not here," Petunia said, fingers itching by her sides. She crossed her arms tightly against her chest to keep from killing the man for ruining everything… not just the floor. Now that she was relaxing, she could have sworn she heard the neighbors at the windows, pressing their ear against the door, peeking through the crack under the front door. She could hear the disapproving gasps.

"What's wrong with Harry?" Dudley chirped, looking curious now instead of frightened.

"So he isn't here," Moody said. "That's good to know. I shall need to check around the neighborhood and make sure. Send me an owl if he does show up."

Moody nodded to Vernon Dursley, glanced at Dudley once, and then went up the stairs. After he performed a thorough search of the entire second story, he returned to the front door. He let himself out, taking a precursory glance of the neighborhood before he went out into the night. The Dursley family did not move – not even when the lights flickered back on, not when the television flared to life, and not when Dudley said, "He never told us what happened to Harry…"


	3. Quick Update Not a Chapter

**Quick update**: hi guys. I just wanted to let you know that I have just bought a Mac. Yay! It is an amazing computer so far and I am very happy with it. I'm currently updating it so that it has all of the files I need to use this computer fulltime instead of my old one. Please bear with me as I transfer my files to this new computer and get used to the new system. The chapters I have promised may be coming a bit late as a result but have no fear, the updates will continue as scheduled. Unfortunately, the **Labyrinth of the Heart **update for last Thursday will have to wait until I have completed this transfer. I thought I had my old files but as it turns out, I never transfered these files to even my old laptop. As some of you may know, my old OLD laptop crashed and lost a lot of my old files. It turns out that I never bothered to download the chapters of Labyrinth of the Heart I had online. Don't worry, this will all get done now. Just a heads up though that this is going on and may delay things.

This message will be deleted within a week or so and regular updates will continue at that point.


End file.
